


Focal Point

by IAmANonnieMouse, storm_of_sharp_things



Series: Power Games [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Big Surprise we know, Butt Plugs, Dominance games, Eames is a dick, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, PowerPoint, Saito might be a control freak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:33:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27208186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmANonnieMouse/pseuds/IAmANonnieMouse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_of_sharp_things/pseuds/storm_of_sharp_things
Summary: Saito does not deal well with boredom.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames/Saito (Inception), Arthur/Saito (Inception)
Series: Power Games [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021549
Comments: 25
Kudos: 25





	Focal Point

**Author's Note:**

> Good things happen when fic wives ~~start brainstorming in comment threads~~ write fic together!

Arthur did his best not to squirm in his seat as the plug inside him started a gentle vibration. He glanced at Saito, sitting with his usual perfect posture at the head of the conference table, a tiny smile turning up the corner of his mouth. One hand was resting on the table, but the other, Arthur knew, was tucked into his pocket, holding the remote that was currently—oh, _fuck_ —currently increasing the vibrations that were steadily driving Arthur crazy. 

Saito granted him a reprieve a moment later, just as the presentation dully wound its way to a debatable point. Arthur really needed this meeting to be over or this plug to be removed. Either way, he was going to be _useless_ if anyone asked him what the presentation was about. He narrowed his eyes at the director who’d been droning on for the past hour and felt a savage satisfaction when the man stuttered. Arthur had only been trying to force himself to focus, but if it made this idiot hurry up and get to the fucking point already, then all the better. 

Saito must have been pleased as well; he folded his hands on the table in front of him, eyebrow arching as the director repeated himself yet again. Arthur took a steadying, relieved breath. Both hands in sight meant no more vibrations for the time being.

His day had started like most others, with Saito coaxing him awake, his mouth gentle on the sensitive area behind Arthur’s ear, his fingers tight on Arthur’s hip. Saito had sent him to the shower with a hard kiss and quiet reminder to clean himself thoroughly, and by the time Arthur had emerged, Saito had already chosen and laid out a suit on their bed.

It was all part of their morning ritual—Saito dressing him slowly, reverently, kissing Arthur’s skin then wrapping it in the crisp layers of his clothes. Later, when he walked into their meeting at Saito’s side, Arthur would still feel the ghost of each kiss pressed into his body’s memory. 

But this morning, after Arthur took his usual position at the foot of the bed, Saito had stripped the towel from his waist and taken a single step back. “Hands and knees,” he’d ordered with a faint smile.

Arthur had immediately knelt on the mattress, spreading his knees wide before folding forward to support himself on his hands. It was so tempting to glance over his shoulder and glimpse Saito’s approval, but Saito’s small, pleased hum made Arthur relax, his back straight, his pose stable, exactly as Saito preferred. 

Cool fingers had trailed up Arthur’s spine before Saito cupped Arthur’s chin. “It will be a lengthy series of meetings today,” he’d murmured, leaning close to Arthur’s ear. 

Arthur had shivered then, at both the soft brush of Saito’s lips and the implications of his words. Saito expected boredom today. 

Saito did not tolerate boredom well.

Arthur had begun to exhale, a long, steadying breath, before he’d even felt the insistent touch of a slicked silicone plug.

“Such a treasure,” Saito had whispered. He’d worked the plug in carefully, smoothly, his hands steady with an intimate awareness of Arthur’s body. Arthur hadn’t even tried to fight the flush of pleasure that warmed him and the quiet, pleading noise that broke free. 

After, Saito helped him stand and resumed their ritual, fingers lingering as he buttoned Arthur’s shirt, pants, and waistcoat. He’d kissed the delicate skin at the base of Arthur’s throat, then covered it with the knot of Arthur’s tie. “Beautiful,” he’d said, and Arthur had smiled. 

Saito’s approval took him higher than any drug.

But now, an hour into this endless presentation with a shit-for-brains director, Arthur was beginning to remember, once again, why Saito and boredom were never a good match. 

The idiot director finished, fucking _finally._ People stood and stretched while the next presenter set up shop. Across the table, Eames stood and meandered over to the coffee machine. Arthur watched the sway of his broad shoulders as he poked at the food then poured himself a cup of tea. Arthur had once told Eames he was so English it hurt, and damn if that still wasn’t true. As Eames turned around, Arthur quickly looked away, and his gaze landed on Saito, who was watching him with that same, small smile tucked in the corner of his mouth. 

Saito knew that Arthur and Eames had danced around each other for a long time. Saito knew nearly all of Arthur’s desires and fantasies, because Saito had the tendency to make thoughtful noises and ask about such things while he was a few fingers deep in Arthur.

Arthur was so distracted from his memory of their last conversation like this that he didn’t realize Eames was approaching until he sat himself in the empty chair at Arthur’s side. As if on cue, Saito turned the vibrations on again, and Arthur froze, eyes glazing over. At his side, Eames gave an interested hum. From the head of the table, Saito was watching them with predatory interest. 

Arthur felt a faint flush rise in his cheeks as Saito smiled for just a moment before turning his attention to their new presenter. 

Eames slouched in his chair with a smirk and hooked his shoe under Arthur’s calf, tugging Arthur’s leg open more. Arthur’s mind whited out as the plug moved inside him, and he clenched his fists under the table while he desperately tried to control himself.

By the time he could breathe normally again, the presenter was several slides in, and Arthur didn’t know the man’s name, let alone the topic of his PowerPoint. 

Somehow, he made it through the presentation, trapped between Eames’ smirk and Saito’s gaze. When it was over, he stood and made a beeline for the washroom, bracing himself on both hands against the counter. He knew better than to touch himself, no matter how much his body was screaming for it. But today, that order was particularly hard to bear. 

Saito stepped into the bathroom and locked the door, meeting Arthur’s eyes in the mirror. “Good,” he said quietly, and Arthur shivered as Saito stepped in behind him, easily supporting Arthur’s trembling weight. Saito slid his hands around him, one rising to cradle his throat and the other sliding down to cup him. Arthur made a helpless noise as he hardened fully under Saito’s insistent fingertips. 

“You are doing so well,” Saito murmured as he opened Arthur’s trousers. “A quick reward. There are still three more PowerPoint presentations to suffer through”—Arthur moaned as long fingers wrapped around him—“but I am not so cruel.” His breathy laugh tickled Arthur’s ear as his hand moved quickly, his other hand pressed over Arthur’s mouth. “Now, my treasure,” he ordered, and Arthur arched into his hand and obeyed.

When they emerged, Eames was watching them, smirk shifting into a thoughtful stare. Arthur settled into his seat and ignored him, savoring the lazy relaxation of release for as long as Saito would allow it. 

At the head of the table, Saito adjusted the knot of his tie, and Arthur’s hand drifted to his own throat. He could still feel the ghost of Saito’s lips whispering against his skin. Arthur sighed contentedly and smiled as the vibrations started again, on the gentlest setting.

Finally, eventually, the meeting came to an end. Arthur had managed to wrangle his brain into focusing for a good thirty minutes, at most, but it was fine. Saito had known in advance what the meetings would cover, and he never would’ve done this if it were important. 

As everyone filed out of the conference room, Arthur rose from his chair with relief, and found Eames standing far too close. Hidden in the space between them, Eames’ hand traced down Arthur’s spine, over the curve of his ass, and brushed over the plug. He paused, then circled back up and gave it a gentle, almost exploratory, pressure. 

“I don’t know why I never thought of tormenting you like this, petal,” Eames whispered. “But I must admit, it suits you beautifully.”

He pressed a little harder, and Arthur hissed, muscles tensing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Saito’s head turn at the sound, and he smiled to himself as Saito dismissed every lingering subordinate and shut the conference room door behind him. He strode across the room and stopped directly behind Eames, close enough for their bodies to barely touch. Arthur didn’t miss the little catch in Eames’ breath at the contact, and he slowly turned to face them both, making sure to brush his body against Eames’ on the way. His gaze darted between Saito and Eames as the silence grew between them, thick with anticipation.

Saito was the one to break it. “Mr. Eames,” he murmured, leaning against Eames’ back, “I do not recall giving you permission yet to play with my things.”

Eames swallowed, then a gleam appeared in his eyes. “Yet?”

“However,” Saito continued, “Arthur, I give you permission to take Mr. Eames apart for precisely four minutes.”

Arthur waited, heart racing, lips slightly parted. 

Saito smiled and nodded his approval. “Starting now.”

Arthur bared his teeth as he leaned forward with intent. Eames instinctively tried to shuffle backward, but Saito was an immovable wall behind him and he was pinned between them both. Saito reached out and grasped Arthur’s hips, pulling him closer until Arthur was pressed firmly against Eames’ chest. Eames’ breath hitched, then, irrepressible as ever, he smirked. “Clock’s ticking, petal.”

Arthur whispered in his ear, “So it is,” then leaned further to meet Saito’s mouth in a slow, hungry kiss past Eames’ shoulder.

"Fuck," Eames breathed, and he dipped his head to suck a mark on Arthur's neck.

Arthur moaned into Saito’s mouth as Saito took control of the kiss, trapping Eames between the heated press of their bodies as they strained toward each other.

Eames reached behind himself and slid a hand down Saito’s side, fingers slow and lingering. He nipped at Arthur’s jaw and smiled as he brandished the remote he’d picked from Saito’s pocket. “Brace yourself,” he said, and he pressed the power button with a smirk. Arthur shuddered against him, tucking his head against Eames’ shoulder and clutching at his shirt. 

“I still haven’t given you permission to play with my things, Mr. Eames,” Saito said. He took the remote back and turned the vibrations to the highest setting, guiding Arthur’s mouth to Eames’ as Arthur arched, crying out. He slid his hand between them to lightly fondle Eames as Arthur writhed against him.

Arthur tore his mouth away from Eames and gasped, “I thought I was supposed to be taking Eames apart.”

Saito smirked faintly. “It has been four minutes.”

"Oh, thank fuck," Eames said, and he dragged Arthur into another kiss. He and Arthur ground against each other, with only their clothes and Saito's hand between them, until Saito separated them.

“Enough,” he said briskly, turning off the vibrator. “The next meeting starts in a few moments.”

Arthur gasped and chased after Eames' mouth for a moment, failing to bite back his whine. Eames, damn him, put himself together almost immediately and flashed a grin that only faltered when Saito took him by the chin and pulled him close, staring down at him. Eames’ eyes widened when Saito lifted his other hand to gently stroke along his Adam’s apple, applying a delicate pressure.

"Behave, Mr. Eames," Saito said quietly. He stepped back and placed the remote in Eames' hand. "And if you're very, _very_ good, I may invite you back."


End file.
